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WILLIS AVE BRIDGE

She's driving home Sunday morning,
with the heat turned up the windows rolled down to the edge.
And yesterday snowed for the first time.
Now no one's on the Willis Avenue Bridge.
Used to be a hard merge. Used to be a hard merge.

She's thinking back on New York City,
the first boy she kissed,
the first boy that she crossed.
Now everbody's in their 20s.
Look who got married, look who's lost.
Used to be a heart break, used to be a heartbreak.

And the fall of 100 things: the hint of an opening

Days like this, it's hard to pull over.
Hard to hold all of the memories in your mind.
She tries to readjust the rearview,
so no one has to ever fall far behind.
Used to be much harder, she used to be much harder.

And the fall of 100 things: the hint of an opening.
And the fall of 100 things: the hint of an opening.

With all the glass in New York City,
it should be harder to hide,
not so hard to find your way back home.
They can take back all their pity,
it's not a one-way ride nowhere to hold on,
no going home, no way to slow down...

Yesterday, snowed for the first time.
Now no one's on the Willis Avenue Bridge